


A Warm Body

by its_mike_kapufty



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [32]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: College, Come as Lube, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Frottage, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29551266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty
Summary: One day, Link buys a Fleshlight.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170695
Comments: 13
Kudos: 47





	A Warm Body

When he uses the toy for the first few times, stolen away in their dorm room in those rare moments he’s alone, it doesn’t feel quite right. Not anything like the thick price tag he’d paid for it, anyway. 

Not like he’s about to call it quits just like that, of course. 

The conversation with Rhett that concludes with _“I think if I just had a warm body to hug”_ isn’t nearly as devastating as he’d foreseen. 

All of that somehow leads to Rhett lying on his back with the Fleshlight tucked snug against his balls, Link on top of him, cheek to his chest and rutting “into” him timidly. 

They’re still fully clothed—Link is simply unzipped and out, and Rhett could faint from how dizzyingly hard he is to match. It’s a miracle that Link hasn’t noticed.

Link’s hips jerk and his breathing shies. Rhett can’t breathe at all, notes his hazed eyes in a sweaty glimpse just as Link whispers, _“Gonna come…”_

Rhett doesn’t know where he gets the airy courage to whisper back, _“Lemme hear ya, brother,”_ but it works like a charm; Link buries his face into Rhett’s breast and moans hard enough to rattle his heart. 

Then he practically deflates in Rhett’s arms, lax and aflutter. The burst domesticates him again—leaves him uneager to move and clean up—which hammers Rhett’s pulse and tightens his throat. 

Would it be crossing a line, if he…? 

Link just did it.

“Can I use it, too?” Rhett rumbles, squeezing his thighs around the slick toy. 

Link chuckles in a way that suggests he’s seeing spots. “Sure. You just gotta clean it out with soap and—”

Rhett doesn’t bother.

He sits up and flips their position, pinning Link to the bed and placing the toy between his thighs. Fumbles to get himself out, tries to ignore the brilliant shade of pinkened-red blooming on Link’s cheeks and ears. 

“Uh… R-Rhett, you know it’s got my—”

“You okay with this?” is all Rhett stops to say, his dick poised above the Fleshlight’s slit, eyes locked on Link.

Link swallows once—nods—and Rhett isn’t nearly as gentle with his body as he’d been with Rhett’s.

* * *

Every second between them since is uniquely awful. 

It’s a special sort of Hell to ignore the tension. Rhett had even caught Link admiring the pretty little bruises on his shoulders and waist in the mirror—the only cherished evidence of _that one time_ —and when Link had gone to defend his fascination, Rhett had blurted something about class and left without his room key.

Rhett wouldn’t act like that unless it had been as good as Link remembers. At least, Link _hopes_.

One day while doing his homework, Link plans on talking with Rhett the moment he’s home. He’ll sit him down and be honest and open, and if Rhett doesn’t feel the same way and doesn’t want to mess around together, that’s fine. At least Link will know. 

It’s midnight by the time their door unlocks and chases Link’s fatigue away, sits him up straight at their desk. Turns him to wait with taut shoulders.

The door opens and Rhett sweeps in obliviously, throwing it shut behind him and stalking across the room to their closet. Link watches, mouth gaping.

“Rhett…?”

He’s digging through _Link’s_ side of the closet, and when he looks over his shoulder, his face is flushed with alcohol, eyes brimming dark and electric. 

“Get on the bed,” he commands quietly, and Link’s entire body buzzes as he scrambles to obey. From that second on, everything they’ve wanted culminates. Caution is thrown to the wind, blowing them to move faster than they should. 

“It’s in the top side flap of the shoe rack.”

“Got it. I’m gonna take off my shirt and pants.”

“Fuck—okay. Should I?”

“It’d feel better if you did.” Rhett rushes over, stripping to his boxers and helping Link pull his shirt off. 

“How you want me?” Link asks in a hush.

Rhett pats his side rapidly with the gentle pads of his fingers. “On your stomach." 

"But…”

They freeze, and Rhett cocks an eyebrow at him, nearly crumbling his resolve.

“I wanna… I wanna see your face.”

If Rhett is disgusted or thinks it too personal, he doesn’t let on. He simply stares down at Link for a moment before nodding to the closet, sliding from the bed. “Lemme angle the door mirror.”

And holy _shit_ , that’s not even remotely what Link had meant, but he’s far too excited to complain. 

Suddenly Link’s watching their reflection, trying not to feel too self-conscious about how lithe and pale he is compared to Rhett, who’s towering on his knees behind him. 

Rhett doesn’t seem to mind the mirror at all. 

“Here,” he instructs, leaning forward, and Link blushes at having the Fleshlight held up inches from his face. “Spit." 

_Why can’t Rhett do it…?_ Cheeks hot, Link tries to spit on the toy, but it comes out in a dribble, requiring him to lean forward and seal his mouth on those pink lips, swathing his tongue out over it. 

_"Jesus Christ,”_ Rhett breathes huskily, his grip on Link’s waist tightening. Link hadn’t meant to be so obscene about it. Rhett _knows_ that, right? The slick toy vanishes and slides between Link’s thighs while Rhett sinks his knees to compensate their ridiculous height difference. 

“You ready?”

“It ain’t really me, man,” Link tries to chuckle. “No ‘ready’ about it.”

“Right… right.”

Link can’t tear his eyes off of the Rhett in the mirror. The concentration in his eyes. His wild hair. The way his face somehow simultaneously pinches and goes slack when he slips inside the toy for the first time, and his abs press flush against Link’s ass. 

Gosh, it’s almost impossible _not_ to watch Rhett’s reflection. 

His fingers clamp tight on Link’s shoulders so he can rein him in to meet each thrust. He lets his head fall back, moaning to the underside of Link’s bunk. Link tingles all over at the sight; it’s one he was never supposed to see. Thank _God_ Rhett had thought of the mirror, honestly. Link’s never been this hard in his life.

Somewhere in the fog of it all, Rhett licks his lips and succumbs to greed, falling over Link’s back and letting their blistering skin meet. Link can only tremble under his weight, or perhaps at the wet sigh Rhett unfurls into his ear. 

"Feel good?” Rhett drawls, and Link fights back a humiliating whine.

“It's—shit, it’s not really _me_ , Rhett." 

"Can we pretend it is…?" 

Link answers in a shaking whimper, clenching his thighs, and of course Rhett has to fucking laugh in his ear, pleased and familiar. 

"You don’t really want that.” Link says it because he needs to believe it. He can’t lose his head right now—Rhett’s just boozed up and extra horny. They both need to stay in their lanes. Have this for what it is.

"All I know is I’d like it better if you were enjoyin’ it, too,” Rhett responds, simple. “What, m’I gonna judge? If you wanna, you should touch yourself.”

Hesitating, Link considers it.

“Can’t,” he mutters honestly, though it’s really an apology. He knows it’s what Rhett wants, but he isn’t sure he can take weight off either of his arms, since they’re the only thing bracing him for each thrust—

“Fuck’s sake." 

Rhett grunts, thumbing at the waistband of Link’s boxers, and Link nods, just in case it’s permission that’s slowing him down. Then—fast, like he’s scared either of them will change their mind and end this before he’s able—Rhett snakes his hand around Link’s ticklish side and wraps around his cock, giving it a self-satisfied, victorious squeeze and stroking once. Pressing his forehead to Link’s spine, Rhett seems to speak to the universe itself when he mutters, "Fuck _me_ , Link—oh, my God." 

Rhett pumps in time with his thrusts, and when Link throws his head back and moans, his eyes are closed from fear of being too known. If he were to open them, he would see Rhett ogling him in the mirror, tracing his neck and the bob of his throat. 

"Pretty boy. Ya feel good?”

“Yes!”

Rhett doesn’t miss the way Link’s lips curl into a scandalized smile.

Link barely has time to lose himself in this new combined care—’cause faced with this side of Link, Rhett has to struggle to keep his task together: his gasps turn into high pleading hums, his fist tightens on Link’s cock, and he can’t keep a pace steadied for either of them. Everything’s teasing apart as quickly as it had fallen into place.

“M'close,” he warns predictably.

Link presses back into him, trying to help his rhythm. “Come inside me. Fill me up,” he dares, mouth braver than the rest of him, and Rhett stutters all over.

“You m-mean that? You really want me…?”

His question feels… lucid. More barren than anything else he’s said up to this point. Link figures he must’ve gotten into the role, and so agrees with enthusiasm on his part. 

“Yeah—please, Rhett? Come for me?”

Rhett’s body lifts away, leaving Link’s sweat-slicked skin cold with the begrudging fear of denial after such a feeble plea. 

But before he can complain, the Fleshlight is batted away and Link’s being flipped onto his back. Rhett straddles him, sinks down onto his lap and collects both of their cocks in his large hands so he can stroke them together. 

Link’s brain skips like a record, spun from confusion into impossible arousal, white-hot. When he parts his lips to cry a small warning, Rhett is already groaning and milking his own cum out onto both of them, warm and sticky. 

Feeling Rhett’s release on him? Link follows him like a command obeyed, fingers digging white into Rhett’s thighs, listening to impossible praise as the soundtrack to his climax.

“There ya go… _shit_ , Link—ahh, fuck…”

Even oversensitive, Rhett doesn’t stop until Link is pumped dry and spent. 

Only once they’re both done and the single thing left is a deep fuzziness paired with Rhett’s heavy panting, Link reaches for him, needy and wanting, seeking reassurance that he’s still loved in a more basic and familiar way than whatever the hell they’d just done. 

Rhett gathers him up without a thought. There’s a clattering that Link identifies as Rhett kicking the Fleshlight to the tile floor. 

“You don’t need that damn thing,” he says softly, and Link laughs into the crook of his neck.

“Didn’t realize you’d get so jealous.”

“Wasn’t jealous,” Rhett asserts. “You’re the one who needed a ‘warm body’. Didn’t take you long to ask me, did it? Figured that meant somethin’.”

Link stares into his thin beard—freshly worried, even in the afterglow. “And you’re the one who needed a drink to confront this, I guess.”

Rhett presses his nose into Link’s damp hair. It’s not a kiss, but it’s close. 

“Just two. Sorry. Needed liquid courage.”

“I mean… so long as you don’t regret it…?”

Rhett points close enough that Link can follow his finger to their reflection in the closet mirror.

“Does it look like we regret it?" 

Curled up together in bed, in messed boxers and skin flushed? Grinning? 

"No,” Link smiles, elating Rhett’s features in turn. “It doesn’t.”


End file.
